


Ned Stark: Like Dying

by skysonfire



Series: Sean Bean [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Eddard Stark - Freeform, F/M, King's Landing, One Shot Collection, Smut with a Story, porn with a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5313386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysonfire/pseuds/skysonfire





	Ned Stark: Like Dying

The pressure of the weather in the south forces sweat upon his brow, even in sleep. The moon pours in through the lattice windows and the sound of the sea builds as it torrents the rock and stone of King's Landing. A smell of salt is in the air, and if it weren't for the whispers, widows and nods about, one might even relax on the fading day. He was never restful, though. Not here; not amongst all the false faces. Even when they are gone, he sees them in the dark, and he tosses about in a twilight sleep, covered in a sheen of concern and doubt.

She brushes the hair from his face and feels the warm wet on her fingers. He stirs and she can see his eye blazing in the light that the night throws in. He is so worn, and she loves him for that. All of the lines edged in his face and the rough bristle of his short beard. His hair is woven with silver strands and she runs her hand over the crown of his head, only to rest at the back of his neck where she feels the vibration of his pulse beating.

"Trouble sleeping?" She asks, her voice a quiet breeze through his quarters.

He sits up and clears his throat. His face deceives him with a slight smile and he rests his hand on hers.

"Sleeping could get you killed," he motions about. "In a place like this."

There is an old cold spell on his words, and she moves toward him to feel the radiating of his flesh under the cotton garments in which he rests.

"And what is there before you die?" She straddles his lap and pushes her hips against him.

He works his used hands under the soft silk of her summer robe and he kneads the skin of her thighs with a certain sense of trepidation and desire that reverberates inside her chest.

There is a moment between them in the dark that questions the following moments. She breathes from her mouth, her lips moist and plush, and he molests her with his shaded, icy eyes. Her heart pounds and rattles her ribs.

He doesn't give her much time before he is on her like a wolf, flipping her onto her back and pinning her hard against the soft mattress. She can feel the cool sweat of his body against the sheets.

His mouth is against her throat and she arches her back against him as he maneuvers himself squarely between her full thighs.

"Yes," she whispers, and he pushes her hand down next to her head as he rises over her and sheaths himself deeply within her.

She spreads her knees as far as her body will allow and he pushes hard and fast against her, his other hand under her waist, forcing her body up. She shakes against him and she rocks her hips in time with the wild thrusting of his lovemaking.

The air in his lungs escapes with a stormy fury and she fights for his mouth with her own, raking her teeth against his lip. He is timed and she is wet and perfect. She arches her back even more dramatically, her hair splayed across the many pillows of of his privileged bed.

He squeezes his eyes closed and presses his mouth against her ear. She rakes her hands through the oil of his hair.

"Gods, I'ana," he pauses, and she whimpers against the force of his thrusts.

"You are like dying," he says, and she knows what he means.

The sea beats hard below against the dark stone.


End file.
